


The Fall

by Arisa_0_0



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: A lot of trauma, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bad Doctors, Blackmail, Childhood Trauma, Eren Yeager Has Heterochromia Iridum, I Kind of kill the entire cast, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Rich eren, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Triggers, not sorry, sorry - Freeform, traumatic flashbacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 18:20:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3779008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arisa_0_0/pseuds/Arisa_0_0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was my life. Plain, and boring, I had already come to terms with that, a long time ago. Until it changed. I just couldn't forgive myself. Mikasa, Armin, Connie, Sasha, Christa, Marco, even that horse-face Jean. It was so easy. All it took was one bullet, and they were down. And I just stood there... ModernAot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fall

It had already been a month. It felt like it would never end. I'm not even sure if I know what I'm waiting for...

At first people just gave me their apologises on how sorry they were that I lost all my friends, my only family left; my girlfriend. But after that they just got on with their lives. I was a orphan, no one care about me. So the apologises were just for formal matters. It didn't matter, they weren't the one's alone.

All my friends parents said it wasn't my damn fault, I couldn't control that were some psycho was running around shooting people. Saying I couldn't of done anything. But there just lies! If the stupid Jaegar's son had just stopped hiding for a moment, he could of saves god knows how many lives! The images were still so fresh in my mind, I can...I cut off my thoughts there.

I blamed myself. No, I wasn't alone, everyone knew it was me. I killed their children, their babies. I'm a fucking murderer!

I was so pitiful and useless, and just a waste of space. I lay in my bed, hugging my dirty and crinkled sheets. I hadn't eaten in a few days, but I wasn't hungry, I never was. I refugee myself in my tiny room, cutting all ties with the outside world. It wouldn't matter, no one was worried about me, apart from Armin and Mikasa.

Sweet Mikasa. She may have been my sister, but we were still dating. She was incredible, amazing, beautiful, smart, strong, caring. She was perfect. Anyone would have been lucky to have her. Just thinking about her makes me wish I was the one dead. I killed my own sister.

I was constantly tormented by nightmares, and enticing dreams of what might of happened if no one died. They much worse than any physical torture imaginable. Messing with mind like a toy, I could never escape since all I done all day was sleep.

I slowly got up and headed towards the kitchen to get a glass of water. My head started throbbing while walking back to my room, and I knew what was coming again.

Images...images of Armin's bloody body lying in the class...please don't be dead... everyone else was also there...stop joking, it isn't funny...their blood was coving almost all the surfaces...no...take me with you...I was in a nightmarish world of this crimson liquid.

My head felt as if someone was trying to force open from the inside, it was my own, personal, living hell. I rushed over to the bathroom, quickly reaching into the left draw of the sink cabinet for my medication. When I found the bright red pills I roughly coughed them down, just wanting the images to fade away like a dream.

After five minutes I could finally breathe, as I no longer felt as though my head was being torn apart from the inside. This is what I've turned into; a shut-in. Oh, I'm such a normal, healthy teenager. I thought sarcastically to myself. But then again I didn't really have a normal childhood.

I felt the side effects of the pill; feeling drowsy and hazy. So laid back against the bathroom wall so I wouldn't fall over when I tried to get back to my refuge; my room.

The pills these so-called doctors gave me where to stop me from thinking, so that I wouldn't do anything rash, but I was sure as fuck they weren't strong enough. As all my previous thoughts of blaming myself for Mikasa's, and all my friends death, came back, but not as strong. Trying to distract myself I stepped into my shower, switching the water on and getting under I tried pushing the thoughts back again. I lost all sense of time and soon the water went cold, at this point I was crying. In an effort to get out of the shower I slipped and fell; I lay on the cold bathroom floor, and started crying fully in a foetal position, hugging my knees. And with these thoughts came along my strong self-loathing.

If only I had just died when I was supost to at school that day, everyone would be a lot happier. I would be as we'll, since I would have been able to see Mikasa whenever I wanted. I liked the though of dying, ending everything, but I was a fucking coward! I wanted to die...but I couldn't end it. I didn't have that sort of strength. I was scared of what would await me after death. Now that I'm a murderer.

I chuckled bitterly at the thought.But either way this must have been a punishment for what I done that day. Slowly torturing my mind, to the verge of insanity, but never over. So knowing what was going on would be even worse.Punishment...for my sins. And I believe that I deserve it, every second of it, as much as I hated it.

Thinking about it I must have been cursed at birth. My fathers undenying hatred towards me, only to disappear along with him when I was 9. My mum being killed. And now Mikasa's death. This curse I had seemed to spread around to other people.

Breaking out of my thoughts I notices a ruff nail brush lying on the side the the sink. A ichy, scatchy feeling started on my arms, and unconsiously I started scratcing my arm. I had decided to stop after mums death. When I had Mikasa beside me.

When she was beside me. I repeated in my head. This time there was no-one to help me if I had a attack.

Without hesitation I grabbed the brush, tentatively raising the it to my arm, and ruffly started scrubbing over my wrists trying to create friction. As soon as I felt the nerves in my brain tell me it hurt I added more pressure, wanting to get the old rush I use to. But it wasn't enough...It wasn't the same...

I sat on the cold tiled floor I thought. Looking through the stiff draws I found one of my old ones, I was clean and shiny, perfectly clean so it would last longer. My scalpels were the only thing to ever be clean and simple in my life.

Positioning my hands so that I had a steady grip, I slowly pressed the blade against my already raw skin. A single drop of blood fell to the floor, making me suddenly jump back in surprise, dropping the scalpel back in the open draw.

Despite the want for the old rush, anything red reminded me just how much blood had soiled the walls in that classroom.

Slow leaning over the sink, I reached out towards the sharp object. I didn't want to do it again for Mum and Mikasa, but I couldn't take it anymore. Picking up the scalpel and trudged back to my supposed safe haven. As I entered my room I started to become more willing, I wanted to start cutting, hacking away at my arm, I disgusting myself to no end. But I needed it, it just filled me. Stopped the numb-ness.

I gradually elevated my body onto the bed, holding on my scalpel tightly. Settling down, I got comfortable. I closed my eyes hoping it was all a dream. But when I opened them I was still stuck in this warped reality.

Well, life is shit, isn't it?

With this thought in my mind I clenched the small handle of the scalpel in my right hand. Once again, pressing the small but sharp blade on the bare skin on my left arm. Gradually dragging it diagonally parallel to my body. I suddenly felt relief wash over me.

All my previous thoughts had disappeared, and all I was focusing on was the razor-sharp edge slicing through my lower arms flesh. I was no longer tormented be images of my friends deaths. No longer haunted be the thought I would never see Mikasa again. However now I had just restarted up an old habit.

Before I had realised I had already unconsciously ruined almost my entire lower arm, reopening few newer scars, as well as going over the older healed ones. I had allowed the blood to spill freely, so my legs as well as my sheets where coated with a thick coat of red. Having liberated myself when mum died, I was use to extreme blood loss.

After I finished up I placed the scalpel into my bed-side cabinet draw, I lay on my bed, my body sprawled on my bed, my cuts open to the world.

We'll, the world could fucking screw off.

**Author's Note:**

> Not really sure where I'm going with this so please be patient...thanks!


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